


I see you

by AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, F/M, Fluff, Insecure Din Djarin, No use of y/n, Smut, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29682984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst/pseuds/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst
Summary: You and Din Djarin have just gotten married. At your wedding night, you are supposed to really see each other fully for the first time. But when you're both so used to the helmet it is hard to imagine him being without it. Fortunately, Din has a plan.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brightlycoloredteacups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlycoloredteacups/gifts), [livebynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/gifts).



The ceremony is simple, as are the vows. It doesn’t require any witnesses or anyone other than yourselves to announce it. Really the only thing about it that stands out is the location; a plateau overlooking the settlement where you two first met. You had finished your meal out in the dining room and waited for Din to exit his room. A couple of the other spouses smiled encouragingly at you on your way out, knowing very well what was about to take place. Not at all nerve-racking that everyone in the vicinity knew you were about to say a few quick words to each other and then strip completely naked for the first time in each other's presence. 

_ “We are one when together. _

_ We are one when parted. _

_ We share all. _

_ We will raise warriors.” _

The vows are on repeat in your head as you make the short hike to the plateau, so caught up in making sure that you won’t forget them that you almost miss the way Din offers you his hand. You already know that the currently covered fingers are tan and calloused; the memories of them sending a pleasant jolt through your body. Din speaks first in mando’a then waits for you to echo the words in basic.

“No going back now.” He comments once you’ve both spoken. It sounds oddly ominous and he immediately huffs out a laugh that makes your heart flutter.

“No,” you agree “no going back now.”

You have seen his sparse quarters at the Mandalorian hideout before but never spent the night so that Din might have the chance to doff his armor and rest. He’s currently all the way across the room from you, shoulders stiff and fingers curling and uncurling in a slow repetitive pattern. He hasn’t made a move to close the space between you since the door closed behind you.

“What’s wrong?” At the sound of your voice his fingers twitch more violently. Turns to face you, though technically you’re not sure what his eyes are focused on.

“You’ve never seen my face.” You’re well aware of that fact; that very frustrating fact.

“No,” you clasp your hands in front of you “I haven’t.” You wait for him to respond but when all you get is a slight tilt of his head and the silence stretches on you speak again.

“Does it scare you to remove it?” Now he’s definitely looking at you, why else would your cheeks begin to burn?

“It’s a part of me. I’ve removed it twice and both of those times are-” he sighs, like you have learned that he is prone to do “-difficult memories.” Even though he speaks plainly and in as steady a voice as ever there is no mistaking the anxiety he is feeling.

“You don’t have to.” You can hear the disappointment in your own voice even as you try to conceal it “We can leave it for another time.” That seems to wake him from his near paralysis. He shakes his head adamantly and reaches a hand out as if to halt that train of thought.

“You are my wife. I want to see you, without it in the way.” He finally steps closer, one gloved hand coming to rest at your waist. Again, you remember his fingers and instinctively begin to squirm.

“Want to feel you on my lips.” You croon at his words, tilting your head to rest against his helmet.

“But I am scared, riduur. I can’t deny that.” Your arms wrap around him on their own and you begin murmuring calming words. Incoherently, perhaps, but it’s not as if Din is the only one in the room who is nervous. His voice rasps from beneath the helmet.

“Will you let me see you first?” Before you can answer he adds “I mean: can I cover your eyes? Just tonight.” It’s not what you expected on your wedding night, or any night for that matter. Even though the idea is unfamiliar to you you hear yourself accept in a steady voice.

“Okay.” He reaches a hand out, the tip of his left index finger pressing gently on your cheek. It’s his way of kissing you, something that he came up with at the end of a long day when you had been openly weeping in frustration over events and over the fact that Din couldn’t kiss you and hold you the way a non-Mandalorian would be able to. Each time I hold this finger to you, he had said, is a time I wish I could touch my lips to you. Now he holds his finger there for a second before making a trail down your neck and finally landing on your lips. Your vision is blurry from a cocktail of tears and thousands of thoughts. Din takes a step back and you’re about to whine in protest when he shushes you gently.

“Help me with my armor.” You draw in deep breath and nod then set to fulfill his request, stepping with him to a wooden shelf in the corner.

“This is where I keep it at night.” With every piece you help him remove he makes sure that you see him put them in their places on the shelves. Finally, only the helmet and the layer of duraweave clothes remain. Din faces you again.

“Your turn.” He says. You glance around the room, wetting your lips.

“Lights on?” You ask. His head cocks to the side at your request and when he speaks some of the usual confidence has slipped back into his tone.

“How else am I supposed to see you properly, riduur?” Your cheeks are burning again, the embarrassment apparently obvious enough for Din to regret his bold statement.

“Un-unless you want it off.” He stutters out, hands returning to their pattern of nervous twitching.

“No, it’s alright. Lights on, riduur.” If you’re not mistaken his chest puffs as you call him husband. He doesn’t rush you out of your clothes but thankfully he doesn’t take an eternity either. His hands sweep briefly down the length of your arms as if doing a cursory glance, then he takes a step back and whispers a word.

“Mesh’la…” While you sit down on the bed Din finds a piece of cloth in a drawer and presses his left index finger to your lips one last time before blindfolding you. You can hear the hiss of his helmet, just the sound enough to make your heart jump, and then the shuffling of fabric. You never made any promise not to touch him and you reach out blindly to try and catch something of him.

“Udesii.” He chides you, voice no longer modulated but still raspy, as you brush against his muscular leg. You grumble but retreat and not long after his hands begin to guide you down onto your back. The mattress shifts as he joins you and if you had any shame left in your body you might have been embarrassed at how you immediately try to wrap your entire body around him. Stubble brushes your collarbone. He’s got facial hair then. It’s not your first time with each other, far from, but this is different. It’s always been in the dark and with as many clothes still on as possible. You’ve only felt the outline of him through the duraweave shirt and trousers he wears underneath the beskar. Now you are trying to make mental notes every time something is revealed. Pawing at his arms, you feel something that catches your attention. Your fingers trace the unevenness below his elbow.

“How did you get this?”

“I tripped when running around with friends as a kid. Scraped it pretty good.” Your hands still for a moment, squeezing him a little tighter in acknowledgement of this childhood memory, before moving on to his neck where what you can only assume is a scar runs dangerously close to his carotid artery.

“And this?” You question. His breathing is a familiar kind of heavy as he responds, sending a thrill down your spine.

“Rescuing your gorgeous ass in Mos Espa.” You have a very different memory of what went down at Mos Espa and you mean to tell him that but then you can feel his breath on your neck and your mind goes foggy.

“Don’t worry, riduur.” His thumb rubs circles into your stomach “It was worth it.” Then his mouth finds yours. His lips are chapped, and perfect in every way. You wrap around him even tighter, loving the weight of him between your legs, and his nails dig into your skin in response. He tries to pull back at one point but you whine into his mouth and he relents, letting the kiss go on for another few seconds.

“Cyar’ika” he pants when you finally break apart to breathe “I meant to taste you before filling you but now I do not think I have the patience.”

“You can make it up to me later.” You murmur, blindly chasing his lips again. He chuckles at that, warm breath tickling your face before he meets your lips. A squeeze at your thigh reminds you to ease your grip just a little so that he can move. You twitch as his tip prods at your entrance and he quickly rests a hand against your cheek in a soothing gesture. The kisses slow and he almost pulls back, just barely remaining connected with your mouth. He enters you slowly, deliberately. Entirely different from your first time, when he had simply pushed you down against a table and rutted into you from behind while hissing what you understood to be mando’a curse words.

“I’m going to move now.” He informs you, sounding more strained than you can ever remember hearing him. Your hands fly to grasp at his hip and at his neck, where tufts of soft and slightly curly hair greet your fingers. It is slow going at first. Each thrust drawn out painstakingly long.

“Din…” You whisper hoarsely, clawing at his hip, and he grunts in response before going a little faster. A warmth begins to rise up deep in your stomach.

“Love your hair, Din.” You say absentmindedly while lazily playing with the curls there. He spits out a curse word and his hips snap against yours so that your entire body rocks with the motion. Even if you wanted to be quiet, you wouldn’t be able to stop the moan that escapes you when he hits the perfect spot with another rough thrust. With every passing moment he becomes more like the man who had pushed you down onto that table. The warmth grows deeper, stronger, and your legs begin to tense. Without noticing it you’ve begun chanting his name in a whisper. Finally, his lips close on yours again, swallowing the cry that accompanies your climax. With a few more thrusts and a heavy exhale he follows you.

It takes a minute or two before either of you move. He carefully slips out and rolls onto his side before carefully tucking you against his side. Your hands begin to idly explore him again and he allows it, pressing kisses to the top of your head as you both recover from this brand new experience. As you lay there, you find your mind already wandering to what it will be like when the blindfold comes off. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings/tags
> 
> Oral sex (both male and female receiving, sort of cum play, sort of breeding kink, emotional smut

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Din eased his way out of you and tucked you against his side for an embrace. The combination of his fluids and yours have started to dry in stripes on your skin and you’re itching to wash it away for comfort’s sake.

“Din.” You whisper, uncertain if he’s even awake. There’s movement next to you. His breath tickles your cheek as he sighs a sleepy response.

“Mmm.”

“I’m going to clean up.”

“Wait.” He moves again, this time shifting the covers and huffing as he goes about it.

“Okay, go ahead.” You untie the blindfold and, seeing what Din has done, begin to snicker. He’s hidden under the covers, with only part of an arm sticking out. Wrapping yourself in the robe that he gave you as a wedding present, you slink into the bathroom. It’s sparse but functional and perfectly organized. There’s only a small mirror but you take a moment to look at your reflection; noting the kiss swollen lips and the slight irritation where his facial hair chafed your skin. It’s a sight you can get used to. You’ve just finished cleaning up and set the rag aside when there’s a knock on the door. Din’s voice rings out from the other side of it.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes.” It’s quite the sight that’s revealed when the door opens. He’s pulled the trousers back on and covered his face with the helmet again. You let your eyes wander across his naked chest, taking note of every birthmark, scar and whatever else you can see. The trousers hang loosely, precariously so, and you think you can spot a hint of dark hair peeking out from underneath them. At the same time, Din is studying you just as meticulously in your still-open robe. 

“You missed a spot.” At first you think he’s tricking you but when you glance down there is indeed a trace of his cum still on the inside of your leg. While you are busy looking he steps closer. His fingertips appear in your field of vision, smearing the remnants across your skin. You startle back to the present at the sound of him rapping his knuckles against the counter.

“Up.” Placing your hands behind you for support, you hoist yourself onto the counter. Din steps even closer; one more pace and you’ll be able to trap him between your legs. There’s another washcloth resting in the water filled basin and he wrings some of the water out of it then touches it to the inside of your knee, nowhere near where the smudge is. The room suddenly feels unbearably warm, even in your state of undress. The washcloth inches further up making your legs jerk violently and prompting Din to sigh.

“Stop squirming.” Easy for him to say. You compose yourself, or at least try to, then place your hands on his hips, just holding there first to put him at ease. After a few seconds have passed you slide down to the waistline of his trousers. Din’s head tilts slightly but other than that he doesn’t acknowledge what you’re doing. When your thumbs hook around the waistline the hand holding the washcloth, which has now traveled suspiciously close to your folds, stills for a moment.

“What?” You ask innocently “You told me to stop squirming. I’m just keeping busy.” Din returns to the slow ministrations and before long your hands are wandering again, this time to his backside. Now Din is the one squirming. Your fingers dip inside the duraweave to squeeze his ass. He reacts immediately, throwing the rag back into the basin and getting as close to you as he can with your legs spreading wide on either side of him. He presses further still and you gasp at the feeling of something solid brushing against your core. You secure your legs around his waist. He sets his left index finger to your lips, holds, then lets it wander south. Down your neck, between your breasts and down the entire length of your belly. He stops right before the curls covering your mound begin.

"So you've cleaned me up, only to immediately make a mess of me again?" Your voice is quivering. He’s so close, so warm.

“Looks like it.” Din replies, managing to sound only a little more casual than you. With that he moves his finger down the last stretch to run along your slick folds. You’re fairly certain you knock something off the counter when soldering yourself to Din so that he can carry you out of the bathroom. He somehow manages to maneuver you out of the robe on the way and so you land on the bed completely naked with him following and settling on top of you. He ruts at you a handful of times, in slow, drawn out strokes. 

“Close your eyes for me.” You whine but obey and soon after you can hear him set something aside. His lips connect to your neck and you have to force your eyes to remain shut. Fingers prod at the seam of your lips and you know what he wants; drawing his fingers into your mouth you lave at them until they are coated with saliva. There’s an obscene, wet sound accompanied by the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. Then his mouth joins in. Sealing his lips around your clit, he has you on the verge of tears. You have to see him.

“Din, I can’t do it. I can’t-” His mouth briefly retreats to utter a handful of words before he dives back in.

“It’s okay. You can look.” He’s not even finished the sentence before your eyes fly open and you strain your neck to look at him. Brown hair. He has brown hair. Some of it has stuck to his forehead in sweaty strands but you can see the curls that you toyed with earlier. Beyond it you spot the broad shoulders that you got a look at in the bathroom. His face is still hidden, buried between your thighs, but just the knowledge that you’ll soon get to see him helps bring you closer to the edge. Din’s fingers curl into the perfect spot and your hips buck up to meet his mouth. Another perfect stroke follows and your orgasm burns right through you. Chest still heaving, you wait for your muscles to relax before speaking.

“Din,” you murmur, as he’s still mouthing at your thigh “riduur…” His entire body shivers at that. Then he lifts his head, and hauls himself up to face you. Your husband’s eyes are brown too, a dark yet warm shade, and you think you can see a hint of lighter flecks just around his pupils. Fine lines spread out from the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. The entire lower half of his face is glistening. Why is your vision blurring? If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess you were crying.

“Mesh’la.” You murmur in broken mando’a. Some of the tension in Din’s shoulders dissipate and he ducks down, meeting you in a series of bruising kisses. He wipes away something that’s definitely not tears from your cheeks. Both of your hands fumble their way inside his pants to stroke his cock.

“Want to take care of you, Din,” you rasp “Will you let me take care of you?” It takes no effort at all to pull the trousers down and you half-push, half-guide him onto his back. You lick long stripes onto the palm of your hand, the sight of it earning a low groan from Din as he watches you prepare to work his cock. With a firm grasp around the base you lick a stripe from bottom to top before sealing your lips around the head, sucking and then letting go so that an audible pop rings through the room. You repeat the ministration once, twice, before taking as much of him as you can. There’s a painful sounding groan and he twitches beneath you.

“Gedet’ye!” He pants “Enough with the teasing.” You release him from your mouth and Din wastes no time. He pulls your hand away from his cock and with one hand around your wrist and another under your arm he guides you into straddling him. There’s a moment of almost panicked movement as you rise up on your knees and grab at his cock again to line him up.

He stretches you perfectly. Your eyelids flutter shut and for a moment you almost forget that you can open them again and look at the man to your heart's content. When you do look, Din is flashing you a lopsided grin.

“You set the pace this time, cyar’ika. For being so good and allowing me to cover your eyes.” You begin slowly as you adjust to this relatively unfamiliar position. His hands grab at your hips, helping you through the motions but, as he said, letting you decide the pace. Hearing Din’s breathing grow more ragged eggs you on and when you move a little faster his nails dig into your skin. A pleasant feeling builds between your legs and when Din notices the tension in your body he thrusts once to meet the movement of your hips. You revel in the warmth that spreads throughout you, overtaking you, back arching and toes curling. Din grunts something that you can’t make out and stutters to a halt as he finds his release too. Your head and heart are both overflowing and you rise on your knees again then tip onto your side. It takes Din another few seconds to gather himself and then he too moves. He lies half next to you, half on top of you. He lets one hand splay low on your stomach. His gaze meets yours.

“Don’t wash it away this time,” He whispers “Please.” You’re sore, and unable to stop a whimper from escaping when his fingers briefly prod at your entrance again. He runs his fingers through the streaks of cum, gathering up as much of it as he can.

“Mhi ba'juri verde,” fingertips soaked, he pauses at your entrance “Yes?” You whine at the soft-spoken request.

“We will raise warriors.” You repeat as your sign of consent. His fingers immediately sink in, guiding his seed back inside your cunt. It’s a bit uncomfortable but not exactly unpleasant. Once he’s done you make sure that he sees you cross your legs and he squeezes at your hip in silent approval. He adjusts the covers and tucks you in close again.

“How does it feel?” He asks “Knowing what I look like.” You wet your lips, having to gather your thoughts before answering.

“Strange. Good.” His lips trail an uneven pattern back and forth over your forehead and you’re almost asleep when he asks another question.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” You still can’t believe that he’d ever feel insecure but you are happy to put his mind at ease.

“Yes-” your nose bumps against his cheek in an affectionate gesture “-and I’m very happy that you trust me enough to let me see you.” You can feel his smile against your skin. His arms wrap around you in a silent promise to protect you.

“I look forward to getting used to kissing you.” He says, and it’s the last thing you hear before drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Mesh'la - beautiful  
> Cyar'ika - beloved, darling, sweetheart  
> Gedet'ye - please  
> Mhi ba'juri verde - we will raise warriors


End file.
